Prologue
It had always been his eyes that gave it away. In his smirk … in the way he looked at her, it was always there.
Lust.
Desire.
Hunger.
It scared her. She didn't want it. She didn't need it. He was a Malfoy.
During their time at Hogwarts, Ron and Harry had never noticed. They never noticed that craving desire in his eyes that was so visible to her. Why would they? They were so absorbed in hating him that they ignored all signs. When Hermione would mention anything strange about him, all Ron and Harry would do was shrug it off.
"Malfoy's not capable of anything! He's a weakling – a ferret!" and then they would laugh and crack jokes about him, then laugh some more. But Hermione never laughed, no, it deeply troubled her.
At first Hermione also thought nothing of it. But as his staring became more menacing, more secreted, she knew that there was more to Malfoy than anyone gave him credit for. The staring then turned to unexpected appearances along the dark corridors during her night time rounds. He would suddenly pop up from the shadows like he was stalking her, following her every move. Then he would insult her until she had had enough that she would finally fight back.
He loved seeing her angry. Her face expression, her energy, her determination. But it was her bravery that intrigued him the most. It had become a mission, or a passion he liked to call it, to try and break her. He tried with all his might, but she still wouldn't crack. It wasn't a Gryffindor trait.
"One day." He vowed to himself one night after a small encounter with her. He had taunted her with so many cruel statements, that she had become fed up. She shoved him against the cold wall and started snarling profanities at him. But he was not listening.
And that's when he smelt it. He smelt her. It was not a scent of branded perfume. It was the smell of a natural fragrance. A lovely scent of innocence and purity. It was a scent that hit him like a drug. He needed more. He became addicted. It was his passion that nourished in that smell.
In mid seventh year he suddenly vanished. Students spoke about his disappearance, and the teachers avoided all questioning. Rumours began like wildfire, some were laughable and some made Hermione's stomach curl. But all-in-all, Hermione felt somewhat relieved.
She was finally free from his taunting.
She was finally free from his staring.
Hermione became her old self and within months the existence of Draco Malfoy seemed no more.
After leaving Hogwarts, Hermione worked full time as Head for the Protection of Magical Creatures and other Species and worked part time as a healer at St Mungo's. The thought of Malfoy had long been lost in her past. For all she knew, he was dead, rotting away somewhere near the gutter.
After You-Know-Who's downfall, the Death Eaters were insignificant. A lot of them ran and hid. A lot of them came forward claiming redemption. But other's continued to bask in the Dark Arts, determined to break the ministry. The end of the Dark Lord gave so much people hope, it finally gave them the dream of a happy ending. But the death of You-Know-Who welcomed more followers in hope to take power and glory and the murders and killings of innocent muggles were still quite frequent.
Something from the morning Prophet caught Hermione's eye one particular morning. It was worth another glance and before she knew it, she was staring into the silver pools of the much older Draco Malfoy. But he was different – he was wild and fierce. But it wasn't his appearance that made her stomach sick, it was the look in his eyes.
The look was still there.
Lust.
Desire.
Hunger.
It was the same look that he would give her when he started to stare. But it was worse. It was murderous. The article stated that he was among the deadliest death eaters still around. The one's that always had the Ministry on it's tippy toes, chasing them around the globe. They were smart, and they were very strong.
They were led by no other than Draco Malfoy.
Who would have thought?
Malfoy was capable of anything.